


Not a Matter of Concern

by Scrawlers



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Demiromantic Asexual Keith, Established Relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship, post-S4 but before whatever S5 brings us, romance/fluff/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: While taking a late night stroll through the palace garden on the planet Minea, Keith and Lotor have a discussion about the future of their relationship . . . and the differences between how their respective cultures view sexuality.





	Not a Matter of Concern

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, since Lotor is in the Blade of Marmora, this *could* be part of my Dual Blades series. However, I currently have two more fics planned for that series, and with those two fics considered this doesn't neatly fit into the timeline . . . so if anything, this is like an AU of my Dual Blades series, which is already an AU (more than likely, depending on what happens in S5) itself. It's an AU of an AU. I won't apologize for that.
> 
> This was also written a little while ago and posted to tumblr, but I just forgot to upload it here until now. Whoops. I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Located closely enough to the Empire’s borders to be out of range of most of the warzones, yet near enough to the Empire’s central nervous system to receive all the benefits of an obediently conquered society, the planet Minea existed as a perfect example of a gilded garbage can. It was pretty enough on the surface, Keith would give it that; the citizens all claimed to be perfectly fine with their circumstances, and the capital (and the palace especially) was beautiful. But the beauty was shallow, superficial; it came at the expense of Minea’s queen willfully serving Zarkon, and sacrificing whatever her people needed for her own profit. It came at the expense of the people willfully drugging themselves into stupors so they didn’t have to think too much about the circumstances they survived in. It had been said that winning over Minea’s queen was essential to winning a turning point in the war, but in Keith’s opinion it was a waste of time. Diplomacy wasn’t what was needed here. What was needed was for Minea’s people to realize the truth about their queen, and for said queen to be ousted just as Zarkon would be. If Keith had his way, the “diplomacy mission” they were on would be over already, ended by removing Minea’s queen from her tainted throne so that her people could be one step closer to regaining control of their lives.

But he didn’t have his way, and he wouldn’t so long as Team Voltron had theirs, and that was how he found himself strolling through the palace garden late that night, Lotor by his side. Lotor, Keith knew, was on his side, at least to a point. While Keith wanted to drag Minea’s queen before her people to show them, openly and without reservation, just what kind of a person she was, Lotor believed that Minea’s queen wasn’t a necessary part of the equation at all.

“They already know what sort of person she is,” Lotor said, when Keith brought this up to him. “Even if they choose not to see it, they know. What we need to show them is that there is an alternative. They don’t need to be convinced of how miserable their lives are now, whatever window dressing they use to try and hide it. They need to be convinced that there is something  _better_. Once we show them that, they will do the rest on their own.”

That, Keith could agree with. That was a sound plan. Unfortunately, they were overruled. Team Voltron still saw fit to try to reason with Minea’s queen, and since Keith and Lotor were only along for the ride as representatives of the Blade of Marmora (a mission Keith had argued against, feeling that he would be more useful elsewhere, but that Kolivan had insisted he go on), their votes didn’t count for very much, if they even existed at all.

So that was what left them in the palace garden, which was admittedly as beautiful as the rest of the place. All of the flowers were luminescent; they ranged in color from bright blues to deep reds, dotting hedges as tall as Keith’s shoulder, lining a cobblestone walkway. As he and Lotor walked, Keith let his fingers trail across the flower petals. They were soft; the petals felt fresh, new,  _delicate._

Keith glanced over at Lotor, whose eyes were scanning over the rest of the garden.

Keith supposed the flowers weren’t the only fresh, new, and potentially  _delicate_ things in the garden.

Everything about their relationship was still so new. They had . . . talked about it, some, but not in any defining terms. Lotor had told Keith how he felt, in a way that—Keith was sure he meant it. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that Lotor had meant every word, and he knew . . . Lotor hadn’t been direct, but he hadn’t needed to be. Keith had understood. And he had answered in kind, with a kiss. But that was it; that was the extent to which they’d talked about it, which left the whole thing . . . pretty new, and with a lot of unanswered questions. It wasn’t that Keith doubted Lotor—he didn’t—but more that he was just left . . . wondering. Wondering where they stood, not with each other, but with . . .

He matched his stride with Lotor’s, falling into step beside him, and after a moment he asked, “Hey—when this is all over, and we can be more open about us . . . is that gonna be okay? For you, I mean.”

Lotor had glanced over the moment Keith started talking, but he had stopped in his tracks to stare at Keith in open bafflement by the time he finished.

“What?” Lotor asked.

“I’m just wondering if it’s going to be okay,” Keith said, and as Lotor continued to stare at him, explained, “I know how people can be. And since you’re a prince—royalty—I know it could probably cause an even bigger scandal for you to be involved with a guy than it would for someone else. So if it’s a problem, or whatever—we can find a way to deal with it, but I just thought I’d ask now, while I was thinking about it. I don’t know how open you’ve been about this sort of thing before.”

Lotor continued to stare at him for a moment more, his lips pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Keith felt a spark of confusion scrunch his own brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that what you’re saying doesn’t make an ounce of sense,” Lotor said, and Keith fought the urge to roll his eyes, because he had understood  _that_ much, thanks. It was Lotor’s  _lack_  of understanding that was the problem. “What does the fact that you’re a man have to do with anything?”

“Uh,” Keith said, and he rubbed at the back of his neck to try and scrub out the heat that was slowly gathering there. “Nothing, I guess, except that you’re . . . also a man, so . . . I just figured that might cause some problems.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because . . . some people might have a problem with it?”

“Such as?”

Keith opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Lotor was staring at him in genuine confusion, and perhaps even a little frustration, borne no doubt from his known distaste of not having a complete grasp on whatever situation he found himself in. Lotor didn’t know—he  _honestly_ didn’t know, and the fact that  _Lotor_ didn’t know or understand made Keith suddenly feel like  _he_ didn’t know or understand, either.

“I—I don’t know,” Keith said finally. “Just . . . some people, I guess—or I thought, anyway. Do . . . people really not care out here?”

“Care about what?” Lotor asked, and before Keith could answer, said, “The sex of one’s partner?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah.”

“No,” Lotor said. “Not among Galra, at least.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Lotor turned and started down the garden path again, and Keith fell into step beside him once more. “Galra have no reason to be concerned with the sex of their—or anyone else’s—partner. Sex and gender are trivial concepts; one’s gender does not determine their capabilities. As such, the sex of one’s partner is a paltry thing to be concerned with in the grand scheme. We are attracted to those we are attracted to; gender is the least of our concerns when choosing a potential partner.”

Keith nodded as he listened, soaking in the knowledge that—for all its many,  _many_ faults—the Galra Empire didn’t seem to have a concept of (and therefore discrimination against) sexuality of any kind. But even as he turned that knowledge over in his mind, the implication at the end of Lotor’s explanation pinged, and he looked back at Lotor as he said, “But there  _are_ concerns.”

Lotor glanced back at him from the corner of his eye. “For some. As you could imagine, discrimination exists among the Galra—particularly those still loyal to the Empire—just as it exists elsewhere, only in different forms.”

Keith felt his stomach twist.  _Halfling, half-breed, mongrel_ —“imagine”was an understatement. Keith didn’t have to  _imagine_ anything.

“Race,” he said.

Lotor nodded. “And class.” He paused, and then the ghost of a mirthless smile curled his lips as he said, “For instance, you are technically far below my station. My father would never approve.”

“Good,” Keith said.

He hadn’t meant to say it, but he didn’t regret it, either. The knowledge that Zarkon wouldn’t approve of him was not only comforting, but emboldening. The idea that Zarkon  _could_ approve of him—would  _ever_ approve of him—was enough to fill Keith with revulsion. It was bad enough that Zarkon had once compared to Keith to one of his soldiers; the last thing Keith wanted was for Zarkon to ever think of him as anything remotely close to family.

All the same, in blurting the first thing that came to mind, Keith hadn’t considered what Lotor’s response to it would be. Lotor stared at him for a second, apparently taken aback; yet before Keith could clarify what he had meant by what he said, a smile spread across Lotor’s face. It wasn’t the same, humorless smirk he had shown just moments before; instead it was a broader smile, a  _true_ smile, one that lit his eyes and was accompanied by a little laugh.

“Have I mentioned recently that I like the way you think?” Lotor asked.

Keith shrugged, but his own grin betrayed his casual gesture. “Maybe, but it never hurts to say it again.”

“Well, then allow me the honor. I do love the way you think, Keith.”

“Thanks.”

By this point, they had reached a pond in the center of the garden. A grand gazebo was built dead center, with stepping stones serving as bridges in the water. Without hesitating for even a second Lotor stepped onto the stones, making his way lightly across the water’s surface. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Keith followed after.

“So,” Keith asked, once they had made their way across the pond, “Galra really don’t have any concept of sexuality?”

“Not in the way you’ve described it, no,” Lotor said. “I’m assuming that humans do, however?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It’s actually a pretty big deal back on Earth. People can be really . . . it’s just something people are pretty concerned with. Whether you’re gay, straight, bi . . .”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“Well, sexuality is something humans are concerned with, isn’t it? And human culture is the culture you were raised in.” Lotor looked over at Keith, his eyebrows raised, and Keith felt another sudden flash of heat along the back of his neck. He curled his fingers into fists in his pockets. “So what does that mean in terms of the attraction you experience? To whom do you find yourself attracted to on the gender spectrum?”

Keith swallowed, and looked away from Lotor to cast his eyes over the pond instead. Minea had three moons, and each of them was presently reflected in the clear water. They were beautiful, but not enough to distract him from the knot of discomfort in his chest. He pulled his hands from his pockets, and crossed his arms over his stomach instead.

“Uh,” he said, and he cleared his throat to make his voice stronger, “well . . . actually, I’m . . .”

It shouldn’t matter. It  _didn’t_ matter, if Galra had no concept of sexuality. But that, Keith knew, was different—it was different, even if it wasn’t, because all Lotor had said was that Galra weren’t concerned with the sex of the person they were attracted to. That still meant that attraction was there—that, even if the Galra didn’t ascribe any kind of label or title or meaning to it, they still felt sexually attracted to others, at least in some cases. Lotor, at the very least, recognized that they did. And if they did, then that would mean that there was still a chance (and maybe even a big one) that a Galra (or  _part_ -Galra, as the case may be) would react to a lack of sexual attraction the same way many humans did on Earth.

So the seconds passed, the silence between them broken only by the rustle of wind through the garden trees, and the distant creak of insects. Keith dug his nails into the crooks of his elbows, trying to figure out how to explain, trying to think of a way he could change the subject  _without_ explaining, his heart skipping beats in his chest.

But they couldn’t stand in silence for the rest of the night. As the seconds threatened to stretch into minutes, Lotor waited for only a few of Keith’s skipped heartbeats before he prompted, “You’re . . . ?”

Keith clenched his fists in his folded arms so tightly his fingers hurt before he blurted, “Ace. Asexual. I’m—I’m asexual.”

It was a feat, really, that he had managed to force himself to say it before the words died in his throat again.

Lotor was quiet for only a second—just long enough to give Keith room to elaborate. When Keith didn’t, Lotor said, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term.”

It was understandable. Expected, really, enough so that Keith had to fight the urge to smack a palm to his forehead. Lotor had just finished explaining how Galra don’t have a concept of sexuality, so how would any of Earth’s labels make sense to him? But that didn’t make the explanation (which Keith still wished he could skip) any easier. It didn’t make Keith feel any less uncomfortable.

Keith took another second to brace himself before he said, “It means that I’m not sexually attracted to anyone, no matter what their gender is.”

“Oh,” Lotor said. “I see.”

There was no judgment in his tone. No disgust, no anger. It was neutral enough that Keith finally looked back at him, to try and gauge  _something_ of how Lotor felt from his expression—but he couldn’t. Lotor had looked away from him, staring out at the rest of the garden. His expression, from what Keith could see of his profile, was neutral; he was clearly thinking about  _something_ (he wouldn’t be Lotor if he wasn’t), but what that something was, Keith could only guess. The problem, though, was that Keith’s guesses weren’t often wrong; there was another twist in his gut, a little nudge against his heart, a little ping in the back of his mind about what Lotor  _might_ be thinking about. And if his hunch was right (and it usually was, even and especially in times when he didn’t  _want_ it to be), then he knew that it was something he didn’t  _want_ Lotor thinking about—something Lotor had no reason at all to be worried about, but something that (thankfully) Keith could hopefully fix.

Keith took a steadying breath.

“But that’s—that’s just sexually. Romantically, I . . .”

“Hm?”

Lotor looked back at him. His inscrutable expression was broken by a sliver of interest (no, hope—it was hope, Keith thought, or was at least projecting, but even if he was projecting, he’d take it). Emboldened by this, Keith loosened the vice grip he had on his own arms, and continued.

“Well, I mean. It—It’s new for me. It’s not something I really thought about before, but . . . just because I’m not sexually attracted to anyone, doesn’t mean that I don’t . . . that I can’t be  _romantically_ attracted to someone, you know? And I—am. I mean, I do . . . feel that. I feel some . . . I want that kind of partner—that kind of relationship.”

Lotor studied him for a second, his stare piercing straight into Keith’s own, before he nodded. “I see. Then I repeat my question, only with  _romantic_  orientation in mind.”

The same question wasn’t any easier, even with revised context. It still wasn’t something Keith had thought about at length—wasn’t something he had even  _considered_ , really, before . . . not meeting, but  _getting to know_ , Lotor. But as that realization clicked for him—as the two of them stood there in the garden, and as Keith thought back to even just a few seconds prior, when the idea that Lotor might think  _Keith_ wasn’t interested in  _him_ had made a new spark of worry flare to life within him, Keith realized that maybe . . .

Well, maybe gender really wasn’t part of the equation for him, either.

Keith shrugged, his arms still folded, and pursed his lips as he cast his eyes out over the pond again. Before Lotor could press him (or take anything from his silence that Keith didn’t want him to take), Keith glanced back to meet Lotor’s eyes and said, “I don’t know, but . . . I like  _you_.”

For the second time that night, Lotor’s eyes widened, surprise overtaking his features, but it only lasted for a moment. His cheeks darkened visibly under the light of the moons overhead, and another genuine smile— accompanied by a heartfelt, breathy laugh—split his cheeks. He closed the distance between them, and took Keith’s hand in his own.

“Well,” he said, as they laced their fingers together, “that is a feeling I can assure you is quite mutual.”

Their eyes met, and Keith—warmth brimming in his chest—returned Lotor’s smile.


End file.
